Star Wars: Dark Nest I: Joiner King

by Denning, Troy

  “I can’t find the activation safety,” Juun said.

  “There isn’t one!” Han said. “Just activate…now!”

  “But the CEC maintenance manual clearly states that every freight-moving apparatus shall have—”

  “Flip the kriffing switch!” Leia yelled.

  The shaft’s blue walls vanished behind the swarm, and bolts of red energy began to streak down into the shaft as Cakhmaim and Meewalh cut loose with the quad laser cannons.

  “That’s an order!” Han added.

  Juun flipped the switch.

  The cabin lights dimmed, and every display on the flight deck winked out as cockpit power dwindled to nothing. Even the quad lasers started to dribble beams of blue light.

  “Han?” Leia’s voice broke with fear. “We don’t have any status displays. I can’t monitor our shields. Is it supposed to do that?”

  “You bet,” Han said proudly. “When I reversed the polarity of the tractor beam, I had to feed it every spare erg of power I could find.”

  All Han could see ahead was the cloud of dartships, so close now that he could make out individual exhaust trails curving toward the Falcon’s nose.

  “But not the shields, right?” Leia said. Canopy bulges began to appear atop the closest dartships, some with antennae waving inside, and propellant trails began to stab out from the swarm. “Please tell me we’re not drawing on the—”

  A cone of iridescent energy shot out from beneath the Falcon, swallowing both the Gorog missiles and the swarm beyond. A series of fiery blossoms erupted as the missiles interpreted the repulsion beam as impact and detonated. The dartships were harder to defeat. The pilots increased power, and the cloud of ships hung in stasis, still struggling to ascend the shaft.

  But as the Falcon continued to descend, the beam grew stronger. Soon the Killiks’ primitive rocket engines began to overload and explode. Some dartships fell out of control and crashed, while others began to tumble back down the shaft. For several moments, Han and Leia continued to catch glimpses of dartships rolling around inside the beam, smashing into each other, spontaneously exploding, erupting against the pit’s icy walls.

  Han slowed their descent until the eruptions grew less frequent. Finally, the boiling cloud of rubble dispersed, and nothing lay below them but a jagged star of darkness that had once been a dartship launching bay. He brought the Falcon to a full stop and activated the intercom.

  “Okay, Juun, you’d better shut down before something blows up.” Han looked over at Leia and winked, then added, “And shift that power diverter back to the shields.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Battle Dragon and its escorts were floating nose-down above Qoribu’s blast-tattered rings, trading fire with two Chiss cruisers as the Great Swarm swept down to join the fight. Jaina’s and Zekk’s cockpit speakers crackled to life with Hapan comm officers demanding explanations and Colony Joiners outlining Unu’s plan, but the two Jedi paid the exchange little attention. They were two hundred kilometers behind the Swarm, with a third StealthX slaved to Jaina’s controls, and their mission was completely independent of the Killik assault. UnuThul was still angry about the spoiled ambush, and he had planted one notion firmly in their minds before allowing them to launch: Jaina and Zekk were to find Lowbacca and leave.

  The Great Swarm reached the Hapan fleet and swallowed it in a flickering cloud of rocket exhaust, then streamed past to engulf the maelstrom of starfighters battling for the crucial space midway between the two sides. The Chiss cruisers redoubled their fire. Brilliant bursts of crimson and sapphire blossomed inside the Great Swarm, three or four a second, but the Colony continued to descend, a dozen dartships vanishing every time a turbolaser struck. The Killiks did not even break formation.

  Hoping to locate Lowbacca before they entered hostile territory, Jaina and Zekk quieted their minds and reached into the Force…and were so surprised that they gasped. Together.

  That feels like Master Skywalker, Zekk said through their shared mind.

  Both of them, Jaina confirmed. And Mother and Kyp and others…hard to tell. Pretty shut down.

  Trying to hide, Zekk agreed. But having a bad time. Wonder if Unu knows?

  UnuThul must know, Jaina replied. Though she and Zekk were hundreds of kilometers from the nearest Taat, and not currently in touch with the larger collective mind, they could still feel the Colony’s Will. UnuThul was too powerful not to know when so many Jedi entered the system. Wonder why Unu hid it from us.

  Unu’s will began to press down on them, and their thoughts turned back to Lowbacca.

  After a few moments of searching, they found their friend, groggy and confused and barely conscious, down below Qoribu’s southern pole in the heart of the Chiss command group.

  Drugged, Zekk said in their thoughts. Not surprising.

  Predictable, Jaina agreed, growing impatient. We’ll have to move fast.

  Unu’s will pressed down, and their hands grew too heavy to lift toward their throttles. Their turn would come later—once the Great Swarm prepared the way.

  By the time the Colony’s command ship—an outdated Lancer-class frigate operated by the Unu—appeared, the first dartships were closing with the cruiser escorts. Jaina’s and Zekk’s tactical displays turned white with propellant trails and did not darken again. The Chiss escorts flickered and vanished one after the other, and the Killik barrage fell on the cruisers themselves. Both vessels lost shields within seconds and withdrew under fire.

  The lead cruiser took a drive hit and was overtaken. Its turbolasers continued to fire for another few seconds, then it suffered a hull breach and began to belch flame. Once its weapons had fallen silent, the Great Swarm stopped attacking and streamed after the surviving cruiser.

  The Hapan squadron started to follow, moving to secure the hole the Killiks had opened in the enemy’s lines, but Jaina and Zekk were in no mood to wait. They needed to retrieve Lowbacca before the Chiss withdrew to Ascendancy space.

  Unu’s will grew lighter, and Jaina and Zekk shot past the nearest Hapan Nova, passing so close to the bow that they saw the bridge pilot squinting at the shadowy silhouettes of their StealthXs.

  The passage opened into a murky vault too large for Mara’s helmet lamp to illuminate; the beam merely reached into the darkness and vanished. She shined the light at her feet and found a dark, ribbed slope strewn with membrosia balls. In places, the balls were heaped a meter high. Her spine felt prickly and cold, but that was nothing new. Her danger sense had been on overload since the moment they entered the nest.

  Luke’s blaster flashed behind her. A distant peew-peew sounded through Mara’s helmet, suggesting that air pressure had been restored to at least this part of the nest. A quick check of the heads-up display inside her faceplate confirmed her guess.

  “At least my hisser’s no problem now.” Luke opened his faceplate and continued to fire. “One less thing to worry about.”

  Mara glanced back and found a wall of six-legged dartship canopies scurrying up the passage. She used the Force to shove all but one of the insects back down the passage, clogging the tunnel while Luke concentrated on the leader. Half a dozen shots later, the canopy finally cracked, and a blaster bolt burst the pilot’s head.

  Mara allowed another Killik to come forward, and she and Luke repeated the maneuver once more before the insects in back turned around and started down the tunnel.

  “Time to go,” Mara reported, still speaking over her suit comm. “Trying to flank us again.”

  Luke finished the insect they had isolated, then they floated out into the weightless darkness. Fifteen meters in, Luke stopped and began to shine his helmet lamp around the chamber.

  “Might be a good place to make a stand,” he said. “Room to maneuver. With the Force, we’ll have an agility advantage.”

  Mara swept her own lamp around the vault. Once in a while, she glimpsed a stretch of shapeless wax or a few membrosia balls resting on a dark, sloping wall. Otherwise, they seemed to b
e floating in empty air.

  “Sounds good.” Mara shined her light back into the passage from which they had come. She was surprised to find it completely empty. The dartship pilots were nowhere in sight. “Just one problem.”

  Luke turned to look as well. Mara sensed him reaching into the Force, then he said, “Han and Leia must be drawing them off. I think the Falcon is inside the nest.”

  Mara equalized her suit pressure, then retracted her faceplate and nearly gagged on the cloying rankness of the air. “You could have warned me,” she complained. “What is that smell?”

  “Maybe it’s better not to know,” Luke said. “Something rotting, I think.”

  “And I thought Lizil smelled bad.”

  As Mara spoke, a ball of membrosia drifted past, “falling” at an angle toward her knees. In contrast to the clear amber syrup of the Lizil and Yoggoy nests, this liquid looked dark and muddy inside its wax container, with stringy clots of solids silhouetted in the glow of her helmet lamp.

  Mara looked up toward the ceiling and thought for a moment she was only looking at an area of burnished wax. Then, as her eyes grew more accustomed to what she was seeing, she began to make out several speeder-sized Killik heads. All were deep, dark blue, and all were facing a two-meter tunnel opening.

  “What the blazes?” Mara reached for her lightsaber. “Queens?”

  “I don’t think so,” Luke said, sounding a little disgusted. “Membrosia givers. Look at the other end.”

  Mara ran her light along one of the Killiks’ bodies, past a thorax clamped to the ceiling by six tubular legs running to a hugely swollen abdomen. About the size of a bantha, it was oozing cloudy beads of dark membrosia and crawling with tiny Gorog attendants, which carefully slurped up each drop and re-deposited it in a waxy ball extruded from their own abdomens.

  “Appetizing,” Mara commented dryly. Neither the membrosia givers or their attendants seemed inclined to attack—no doubt because they were entirely lacking in combat ability. “What now? Start back?”

  As Mara asked this, Alema Rar appeared in the tunnel above, still dressed in the skintight flight suit she had been wearing when she stole the skiff back on Ossus. Now the material was stained and rumpled in a way Alema would never have permitted before.

  The membrosia givers extended short feeding tubes and began to clack their mandibles for attention, but Alema ignored them.

  “Sorry,” she said to Mara. “We can’t let you leave.”

  “You can’t let us?”

  The sight of their betrayer made Mara’s blood boil. She tried to remind herself that Alema was not entirely responsible for her actions—that the Twi’lek had unwittingly fallen under the Dark Nest’s influence—but it didn’t make her feel any less angry. She pulled her lightsaber from its belt hook, then glanced toward the empty tunnel that led back toward the hangars.

  “From where I stand, you’re in no position to stop us.”

  Alema gave a sly smile. “We believe we are.”

  A muffled rustling rolled up the tunnel, and a wall of Gorog warriors appeared in its mouth. Though they lacked the canopies that had protected the dartship pilots, they were much larger and armed with both tridents and electrobolt assault rifles. The rifles, Mara knew, were relatively feeble weapons, cheap and reliable but requiring three or four hits to take down most targets. Unfortunately, she did not think the Killiks were going to have any trouble massing their firepower.

  A shrill chorus of squeck-squecking began to spread outward from the dark corners of the chamber, the sound of hundreds of Killik feet rushing across the sticky wax that lined the nest. Mara swept her helmet lamp over the walls and found them crawling with Gorog warriors, and the anger she felt toward Alema assumed an acid taint.

  “Tell your masters they’re about to wish they had died in the Crash.” Mara slipped a fresh power pack into her blaster pistol. “We’re coming for them.”

  Alema smirked, and Gorog warriors began to pour out of the tunnel behind her. “You will need more than lightsabers and blaster pistols, we think.”

  The Falcon’s darkened air lock slid silently open. The four YVH “bugcruncher” war droids—on loan from Tendrando Arms and specially programmed to Han’s specifications—jumped into the pitch-black hangar. Next went the four Jedi—Kyp, Saba, Octa Ramis, and Kyle Katarn—in their combat-rated vac suits. Han was just glad he had convinced Meewalh and Cakhmaim to “help” Juun and Tarfang guard the Falcon, or he and Leia—bringing up the rear in standard-issue EV suits—would have had to follow them, too.

  “I’m the captain of Millennium Falcon,” Han grumbled into his faceplate. “That used to mean something.”

  A moment later, Leia took his wrist, and they jumped out of the air lock. She drew him along through the weightless darkness, using the Force to move them away from the Falcon so they would not need to activate their jet belts and make targets of themselves. To Han, it was like making his way through a cargo hold during an all-systems failure. He kept bumping into stuff, and stuff kept bumping into him.

  Finally, the YVHs gave an all-clear and activated their thrusters, briefly illuminating the airless, flotsam-choked launching bay before they shot through a hole in the rear wall. Conversing through the Jedi battle-meld if at all, Kyp and the other Masters activated their green combat lamps and used the Force to pull themselves after the war droids. Leia drew Han by the wrist and followed. He felt like a little kid being dragged through a bad dream, what with all the loose bug heads and chunks of thorax chitin floating around.

  As they passed through the hole, Leia’s helmet lamp came on. Han activated his own light and found himself in a small repair hangar. The YVHs led the way into a small utility tunnel filled with Gorog bodies. Most of the insects had burst eyes and dark strings of tissue extruding from the breathing spiracles on their thoraxes—signs of a quick-but-painful decompression death.

  Kyp motioned the rescue party forward, then activated his belt thruster and led the way up the passage. Glad to finally be under his own power, Han started his own thrusters and followed at Leia’s side. The accumulation of insect bodies grew thicker as they advanced, and soon the group almost seemed to be swimming through them.

  Han touched his helmet to Leia’s so they could speak without breaking comm silence. “Luke and Mara did all this?”

  “Kyp seems to think so.”

  “Huh.” Han started to wonder who might need rescuing more—the Skywalkers or the bugs. “Nice of them to leave us a trail.”

  They passed through the tattered remains of a hatch membrane and continued deeper into the twisting warren of tunnels, following a steady trail of dead Gorog and gouged walls. Han began to think the Skywalkers had decided to hunt down Welk and Lomi Plo on their own.

  The rescue party came to another hatch, this one intact, and progress slowed to a crawl as the bugcrunchers pushed through one by one. Kyp and Octa Ramis followed the droids, and suddenly the membrane grew bright with battle flashes.

  “Enemy located,” Bug One reported, terminating comm silence. “Engaging now.”

  Han armed the T-21 repeating blaster he had brought along as bug repellent, then started toward the membrane.

  Leia put out a hand to stop him. “Not yet,” she said over the comm. “Kyp’s suit has been punctured.”

  She did not need to explain further. With Kyp’s suit damaged, it would not be smart to draw more fire in the hatch’s direction.

  “Well, tell ’em to hurry up,” Han said. “My trigger finger is getting itchy.”

  Leia’s eyes slid away from Han’s, looking past his shoulder back down the corridor.

  Then Saba’s faceplate suddenly loomed up behind Leia’s head, her pebbly lips broadening into a huge, fang-filled smile.

  “It will not itch for long, this one thinkz.”

  Han spun around, and his stomach sank.

  Dozens of dartship canopies on legs were racing up the tunnel toward them. Han raised his T-21 and opened fire. One canopy shat
tered, but most of the bolts ricocheted off, melting holes into the walls and filling the passage with an ever-thickening cloud of ethmane vapor.

  Han slid over to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Leia.

  “Sweetheart…” He lowered his aim and began to blast Killik legs. “…did I ever tell you how much I hate bugs?”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Chiss were retreating in disarray, spiraling down below Qoribu’s south polar region in a tangled vortex of ion trails, lacing space behind them with a ragged net of turbolaser fire. Jaina and Zekk spotted an opening and swung their StealthXs toward it. Before they could dart through, a pair of frigates managed to shift their fire and string the hole with streaks of energy.

  Jaina and Zekk peeled away, the StealthX slaved to Jaina’s controls lagging half a second behind. Silhouetted against the white backdrop of Qoribu’s south pole, they were visible to any sensor operator with a tracking telescope, and it would be folly to attempt a penetration when they had so clearly been spotted. If they wanted to reach Lowbacca alive, they would have to try another approach.

  Not as disorganized as they look, Jaina observed.

  This is a show, Zekk agreed.

  Jaina and Zekk checked their tactical displays. The screen showed only the portion of the battle not hidden behind Qoribu’s mass. But what it did show clearly revealed the Chiss falling back in a crooked, disjointed line that was barely managing to stay ahead of the swarm’s dartships. A couple of frigates and light corvettes were blinking with damage, but most of the cruisers, and all of the Star Destroyers and fighter carriers, were safely below Qoribu, milling about in the heart of the fleet.

  A Bothan fade, Jaina remarked.

  The Chiss probably have a different name for it, Zekk pointed out.

  Probably, Jaina agreed.

  They swung around in a crooked, uneven curve, ducking behind blossoming turbolaser strikes and changing their approach frequently to throw off anyone trying to track them by sight. But Qoribu’s polar region was as vast as it was bright, and their StealthXs remained silhouetted against its whirling white clouds.